Storm Warnings
by Major Strife
Summary: An act of nature sparks huge changes for Tom Paris.
1. Chapter 1

**Pairings:**Tom/B'Elanna, Tom/Male, Tom/Chakotay.  
**Summary:**An act of nature sparks huge changes for Tom Paris.  
**Archive:**MPreg, other please ask first.  
**Rating: **NC17  
**Disclaimer:**Voyager and her crew are the property of Paramount .  
**Authors notes & Warnings:** Slash (M/M - implied). Non-con (implied rape, later chapter). MPreg (later chapter). Gender Bender. Thanks to Cassy Bug and Alex Quinn for Beta work.

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Part the One - Where in the earth moves for Tom and Harry!

0oOo0

Tom Paris tugged at the neck of his uniform, trying without much success to fan cooler air down his sweat soaked back. The material clung unpleasantly to the damp patches under his arms, across his chest and shoulders, a broad wet area running the length of his spine. Damp blond curls were plastered to the flushed skin and rivets of sweat ran freely down his forehead. Beside him, his companion was in little better condition.

"Hey Harry," Tom called as the sticky pair struggled up the last few meters of the steep path bringing them to the top of the mesa. "Next time we're given the choice of duties hit me if I even look like I'm considering refusing the chance to pick fruit and veggies for Neelix."

Coming to a halt Tom rested, palms braced against his knees as he bent forward, forcing much needed gulps of air into his lungs. As the consuming need for oxygen receded he spoke up again, "so help me if he manages to find something worse than Leola root I'm getting out and walking all the way back to the Alpha Quadrant."

Much as the crew loved the spotted Talaxian his culinary choices were a subject of frequent teasing complaints and banter from his friends, Tom especially loathed Leola root and the pained expression which crossed the handsome blonde's features at mention of the dreaded vegetable set his younger companion off, Harry's happy chuckles in turn bringing a grin to Tom's face.

Breathing normally again the pair resumed moving; unclipping their tricorders as they walked both men performed the first of a series of sweeping scans over the narrow plateau on which the path now deposited them.

"Voyager's scans indicated the energy readings should be coming from over there," Harry said motioning to a spot roughly in the middle an area equally empty of anything but the knee high grass which evenly covered the ground in all directions.

As the men made their way over the otherwise featureless field Harry could feel the broad, flat blades of purple grass cling to the fabric of his uniform, having to pull his feet slightly with each step to break free. After over an hour of trudging through the stuff on the climb up, which was more the reason for their earlier breathless state than the angle of the incline, both men had learnt to move their feet in an odd gliding fashion; although a less efficient way to move it stopped them becoming mired down by breaking the stems of the prehensile plant life, with the added advantage that the crushed foliage released a pleasant if somewhat sweet scent which was better than the Starfleet officers' own currently less than fresh odour.

Eyes locked on his flashing tricorder screen Harry stumbled as his left foot unexpectedly connected with the remains of a wall, hidden under the surface of the subtly moving grass. Tom grabbed his friend, steadying him for a moment before patting the shoulder beneath his hand.

"You ok Har?"

"Thanks Tom. Now that's interesting, the scans don't show anything there but look," using one hand the younger man parted the grass, a large block of cut stone appearing beneath his outstretched palm.

Running his own tricorder over the ground and exposed wall remnants Tom puzzled over the scan. "I'm getting nothing either Har."

Standing again the taller man noticed a slight difference in the height of the grass surrounding Harry's stone; the depression ran away from their location to both left and right before turning at right angles, heading off down the plateau. As a cloud moved across the sky the sun was briefly hidden, casting long shadows which revealed another line parallel to the first, interacting with the other marks to form a massive rectangle.

0oOo0

"Chakotay to Away Team Beta, how are you doing Lieutenant Paris?"

"We've reached the plateau Commander. Tricorders aren't picking up any sign of the energy source, or anything else for that matter but Harry literally stumbled over the remains of a wall and we've found crop marks which would indicate several more. Either both tricorders are malfunctioning or something is blocking our scans." As Tom finished speaking the ground suddenly seemed a little less solid, giving a little shake. "Did you feel that Har?"

"Yes, I wonder what ..."

Before Harry could completely voice the question the ground shook again, shuddering a little harder than before.

"What's going on Paris?" Chakotay's voice sounded, a little tinny from the comm-badge on the Lieutenant's chest.

"Voyager to Away Team Beta, we're detecting seismic activity in your area, it would seem that the area isn't as stable as initial scans suggested. I suggest you cut short your investigations gentlemen and return to the harvesting site." The Captain's voice was interrupted by a booming crack as the ground rippled, startling both men.

"Harry I think that's our cue to leave."

"Lieutenant Report, what's going on down there Tom?"

Already panting as he ran Tom responded, "earth tremor, big one, we're moving to safer gr... HARRY, LOOK OUT!" He shouted in alarm as the ground immediately in front of the younger man and to their right suddenly dropped away revealing a yawning chasm which was rapidly spreading towards the staggering Ensign.

A surge of adrenaline gave Tom a sufficient burst of speed to power his longer legs, carrying him quick enough to lunge forward to snag Harry's waist; jerked away from the crumbling edge; their combined momentum was enough to push the lighter man clear of the unexpected danger.

Unprepared for the impact of his friend's hands on his hips and back Harry twisted as he fell, not even feeling his head strike the ground as everything went black.

As rapidly as the earth tremors had begun the ground now ceased its' restless movements, clouds of dust ripped from the torn surface slowly settled back down, light eerily muted in their wake. The blanketing silence smothering the scene was shattered by Captain Janeway's voice, concern for her officers evident in her tone. "Lieutenant Paris, Ensign Kim, report. Tom? Harry?"

On Voyager's bridge Tuvok's calm even tones cut through the pregnant silence. "Captain, interference from changes in the planet's magnetic field is blocking our scans. We are only able to detect one faint set of bio-signs from the Beta team's location."

"Get a lock on both of them and beam them directly to Sickbay," Janeway bit out, already moving towards the turbolift as the EMH's distinctive voice came over the comm.

"Sickbay to the Bridge. I have Ensign Kim."

"Doctor, what about Lieutenant Paris?"

"Ah, that would explain the second comm-badge."

"Doctor!" the Captain cut in before the EMH could continue.

"I'm afraid Ensign Kim and the Lieutenant's badge are all that arrived, would you mind telling me where the rest is or do you plan on transporting him piece by piece; should I expect his uniform next?"

Blocking out the Doctor's sarcasm through years of practice the Captain turned towards her Chief of Security, "Tuvok?"

"Scanning Captain, working to compensate for interference." The Vulcan's fingers already in motion having anticipated the Captain's order, Janeway wasn't the only one who had years of practice.

0oOo0


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **See part one

* * *

Part the Two - Where in which Voyager has lost Tom and Tom just looses it!

0oOo0

Tom could remember landing heavily on his side, knocking the air from his lungs it took several precious moments to draw breath enough to contemplate moving. Cautiously he lifted his head; several feet away lay the still and pale form of Harry Kim, only the steady rise and fall of his chest reassuring a concerned Tom that the younger man was still alive and breathing.

"Harry? Hey Har are you ok?" Silence greeted his calls; it was then and only then that he realised that all noise and motion from the tremors had ceased.

Rising stiffly to his knees the rattled Pilot tapped at his comm-badge to contact Voyager only to discover it was no longer attached to his uniform; when his fingers slapped on his chest meeting soft material instead of the hard metal he was expecting. Deciding the missing device was the last of their problems he stood, his priority right then the still unconscious Harry, Harry who needed his help and with a bit of luck the younger man would still be in possession of his comm-badge.

Luck however seemed to be in short supply as the ground shifted beneath his feet, the soft lip of the ravine unable to support his weight, crumbling away without warning leaving him struggling for balance precariously close to the dark rift. Arms pin wheeling Tom found himself thrown back to the ground as a loud crack heralded the collapse of the unstable overhang; the section of soil now under his back and shoulders tilted alarmingly before crashing down into the depths, carrying the tall man along for the ride.

Fear gripped his throat, strangling his voice and stifling a scream as he fell for what seemed like hours, time distorting the few seconds stretching them out to his adrenaline heightened senses. Unable to control his freefall he crashed full length into one of the many massive white pillars of stone which supported the ceiling which the rift had torn open and through which Tom had fallen. Thumping against the vertical surface Tom felt his ribs flex and at least one crack under the force of the impact, the rough stone surface abrading the skin of his face and hands, his uniform snagging several times before tearing free; spinning him with some force away from the pillar and back out into the void. All too soon a dazzling white floor rushed up to meet him, his last thought prior to impact was a predictable, "_Oho, I bet this is gonna hurt!_"

Before he had a chance to confirm his suspicions as to the firmness and pain inducing properties of said immovable surface a beam of vibrant blue light swept his battered form, freezing his limp body, holding it suspended mere inches from the floor; arms held in front of his face, head tilted back braced for impact, eyes tightly screwed shut, all voluntary movement prevented by the light field yet blood from a particularly deep cut on Tom's forehead ran unhindered across his brow; mingling with dirt and sweat on the way before sliding down the aristocratic nose and falling free to splash a crimson stain on the pristine white tiles below.

Instantly the blue light field transformed to an angry pulsing red, unspoken words seemed to slam directly inside his skull, bypassing his ears altogether the enraged female voice screamed out.

"DESECRATION!"

"MALE!"

"DESPOILER!"

"BEAST!"

"DEFILER!"

"ANIMAL!"

Over and over the words repeated, cycling faster and faster, volume rising with each repetition until his mind was filled by a formless roar; so loud he couldn't hear his own voice, crying out in pain Tom begged for it to stop, yelling until his throat was raw, vocal cords strained until only a pitiful broken whimper issued from his abused larynx.

Battered in body and mind Tom welcomed the encroaching darkness, slipping into unconsciousness with a soft sigh, escaping reality and pain for a void of a different kind.

0oOo0

Captain Janeway strode into Sickbay, the doors sliding shut behind her with a soft sound. Crossing to where Voyager's young Comm officer lay she addressed the EMH as he appeared from his office, alerted to her presence by the sound of the doors.

"Doctor, how is he?"

"A mild concussion, minor abrasion, all successfully treated, all easily within the scope of my abilities. He's asleep at the moment but I expect he'll awaken shortly if you care to wait. However if you do I would ask you not to excite my patient, he'll need to rest for the next few hours, the head injury means he needs to take it easy for the next twelve hours at least before I can release him back for duty."

As the Doctor spoke Harry's eyes began to flutter, dark lashes brushing the broad cheekbones. All professional the holographic doctor ran a medical tricorder over the recumbent form of the young Ensign, swiftly analyzing the scan, nodding as the results showed nothing untoward.

"Harry," the Captain asked, one small hand softly touching the young man's shoulder. "Harry."

"Uggnggg!"

"Mr Kim, open you eyes," the Doctor's voice was deeper if no less kind hastening Harry's return to consciousness.

"TOM!" Harry's eyes flew open, struggling to sit up as he cried out in alarm. The EMH and Captain both restraining the sudden movement, gently forcing him to lie back down.

"Take it easy Harry, you're in Sickbay."

"Sickbay, I'm back on Voyager?"

"Yes Mr Kim, you suffered a blow to the head and have been unconscious ever since we beamed you aboard.

"How's Tom, is he ok?" Aware of his surroundings Harry now noticed the total lack of complaints that usually accompanied his friend's enforced presence in Sickbay. "Tom?"

"I'm afraid we haven't yet located Mr Paris, we were hoping you would be able to help us Harry, tell us what happened."

"What do you mean? You're telling me you've lost Tom? But he was right behind me the whole time, we were running for the trail, the ground gave way collapsing ahead of us, there was no way I could avoid it. Tom, Tom must have pushed me, I can remember his hands on my back before I fell, nothing after that; that must have been when I hit my head. I'm sorry Captain he was right there with me."

"Thank you Mr Kim," the Captain responded to the Ensign's report, but it was Kathryn Janeway who touched the young man's arm, offering comfort. "Why don't you try and get some rest, we'll find him Harry." Nodding to the Doctor the Captain's mind was already back on the bridge, mentally preparing to rejoin the search for her missing Chief Pilot.

"Bridge to Captain Janeway."

"Janeway here, go ahead Tuvok."

"Captain, Lieutenant Torres has reconfigured the scanners to compensate for the interference. We are reading unusual energy pulses originating from Lieutenant Paris's last known location. Seismic activity has reduced to a minimum, however the ground remains unstable and I would suggest no more than a small four man search team as there is a high probability of aftershocks."

"Tuvok, inform Commander Chakotay of the situation and have him assemble a team from those already on the planet. Ensign Wildman should accompany them; her medical skills may be required."

0oOo0


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **See part one

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Part the Three - Where in which Tom tries to smooth things over and ends up rounded out instead!

0oOo0

Dull but persistent pain finally pulled Tom back to consciousness, where a variety of aches vied for his attention, from the throb of a likely broken wrist to the grating of certainly broken ribs, his body was a map of hurts. Mentally cataloguing each individual bump and bruise, it took several long moments for the bloodied pilot to realize that although his head still throbbed in time with his pulse, it no longer felt as though his skull was being split asunder.

Cautiously he cracked open his eyes, eyes which refused to focus, and with limited vision Tom tried to take stock of his surroundings. The floor, previously scant inches from the tip of his nose was now somewhere back below his feet. Although his body was now vertical instead of lying supine his feet, he noted, were not actually connecting with the ground.

Automatically raising a hand to wipe at the warm sticky feeling that had to be blood still running sluggishly down his cheek Tom found that the light field which held him suspended, now a rich purple which as quite an improvement over the earlier pulsing red, also continued to hold his limbs immobile. After a brief struggle which only went to confirm that he was indeed trapped, already worried by fuzzy vision and now unable to access the damage to his face, Tom put a voice to his frustrated feelings, muttering under his breath. "Well that's not good, no good at all!"

"Man-child. Despoiler." The unseen speaker's voice returned, its' words echoing inside his already bruised mind. Tom winced in anticipation of further pain as it continued. "Man-child. Despoiler. Do you accept the consequences of your actions?"

"Consequences? Actions?" He queried, "I'm afraid I'm not sure to what actions you refer."

"You refuse to acknowledge your actions. Prepare for termination."

"WAIT!" Tom called out, trying hard not to panic; vocal cords already abused causing his voice to crack. "I'm not refusing to acknowledge them; I just don't know what actions you mean. Please explain to me to what you refer. Surely it is only fair to allow me to be fully informed before answering?"

"Man-child, despoiler of the Hall of Women. You plead ignorance, and yet reparation must be made, either by accepting the consequences of your actions or termination for refusal."

Tom breathed deeply, momentarily forgetting his broken ribs until the grating of the bone ends rubbing together instantly brought them back to the forefront of his mind, as he attempted something he never believed he would do; calling on diplomacy learnt, if nothing else, from a childhood watching his father negotiate in the political games of the upper echelons of Starfleet. The thought of actually finding something to be grateful towards the man who had publicly disowned him almost caused Tom to laugh out loud, only the gravity of the situation and his throbbing ribs prevented an inappropriate outburst.

"Ignorance is no defence, I have evidently transgressed and for that error I am sorry," the Lieutenant said altering his tone as much as strained vocal cords would allow, trying to emphasize the sincerity in his words, knowing that his very life could depend on swaying the hidden listener to the truth of his statement. "However, I would ask you to please explain the nature of this error so that I can make an informed decision, to accept the consequences and make whatever reparation or formal apology you deem appropriate.

"Man-child, as you have requested so shall it be." For some reason Tom thought that the word Man-child sounded less derogatory this time, the hidden speaker's tone a little more respectful, but then again it could have just been a case of wishful thinking.

Without warning a barrage of information flooded into the pilot's mind, images accompanying the compressed history of a world in turmoil, three sexes fighting for dominance in a planet wide war, destruction of almost ninety percent of the population. The rise of a Matriarchal society from the ashes substituting order for chaos, the creation of Mother Religion and the building of the sacred Hall of Women. With the history came understanding that the sanctity of building into which he had fallen had been broken by the shedding of blood within its' precincts. Understood that the source of his knowledge and of the voice behind the unseen presence, an advance artificial intelligence which guarded the hall, both a relic of a long dead civilization, yet the AI compelled to maintain that which its' creators set in place, force to uphold the law for a people no more than ancient dust.

"Thank you. I understand now," Tom whispered knowing that the AI would hear him no matter how quietly he spoke.

"Do you accept the consequences of your actions?" To Tom the voice now seemed sad, tired, lonely even.

"I do," he again whispered, for with the history lesson had come concise information detailing the legal and judicial systems. To refuse would compound the 'crime' and termination of the offender the only possible outcome, a punishment Tom had no desire to warrant.

"Do you accept the repatriation; one solar day for every cycle lived starting from the age of responsibility? Man-child you shall become that which you defiled. Thirteen days for every rotation, man-child you shall be no more!"

o0O0o

Far above the subterranean Hall of Women and far distant from the acts within, Voyager's crew continued to search for their missing member. The blue shimmer of transporter beams briefly lit the air, clearing to reveal the rescue team lead by Commander Chakotay. Following twin trails of footprints, individual steps widely spaced indicating the two men of the Away Team had been running when they made them, Chakotay swiftly located an area of flattened grass where Harry Kim had fallen; the purple stems bent away from the torn earth, crushed by the young Ensign's body, broken the tall blades leaked sweet smelling sap staining the soil a muddy violet.

Nearby the ground showed faint signs of where of a second body had lain but scuffed boot prints lead away towards the edge of the ravine. Using their tricorders the rescue team scanned the darkness below, searching for some, any, sign of the missing pilot, fearing to discover for truth that which evidence seemed to indicate.

"Chakotay to Voyager."

"Go ahead Commander."

"Lieutenant Paris is not in the immediate vicinity, we're preparing to explore the ravine now. Tricorders are not picking up any interference however we are picking up an energy signature which could be masking Tom's bio-signs." Neither the Captain nor the Commander were willing to admit the most logical explanation for the lack of detectable bio-signs was that the Lieutenant was no longer alive, even Tuvok having come to this conclusion kept silent.

Throughout the conversation a low pulsing red light from deep within the ravine steadily grew brighter, the colour shifting slowly to purple, lightening to turquoise then green before flashing once, a stunningly brilliant yellow, momentarily blinding the rescue team before blinking out. When the teams' vision cleared they found themselves confronted by the flickering projection of an elderly alien woman.

"May I help you?" Commander Chakotay addressed the wavering image.

"Man-child, you are not the one who leads. I must speak with the Voyager Clan Leader in relation to your clan member Tom," she replied, arms folded, body language adding a sense of finality to her statement.

"Commander, am I to understand my presence is required?" Captain Janeway said, speaking over the still open communication channel.

"I believe so Captain; there is someone here who wishes to speak with you."

"I'm on my way, Voyager out." "Tuvok you have the bridge."

Minutes later the short but formidable figure of Captain Janeway materialised next to her second in command, her eyes sweeping the plateau, swiftly taking into account the low grade projection, the alien woman though elderly stood tall and unbending, patches of colour running from her temples, across her ears and down her neck, the light blue trail disappearing below the collar of a simple white robe, its hood hanging free down her back under a veil of long white hair.

"You are the Voyager Clan Leader?" The woman asked.

"I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager."

"You are whom I must speak with, these others I do not," the woman said, pointing towards the rescue team. Stopping to indicate both Chakotay and the Captain with a graceful sweep of one hand, "Tom has trust in you both therefore this man-child may stay."

"What do you know of Mr Paris?" The Capitan queried.

"This One will be returned to you shortly. Do you accept responsibility for their care?" Came the oddly phrased reply.

"I am his Captain, the care and wellbeing of all Voyager's crew is both my duty and responsibility."

"You may stay, the man-child too," again the woman indicated Chakotay. "The rest must leave, _now_!"

"Excuse me, but could you please explain what is going on, where is my pilot?"

"Tom accepted the consequences, reparation has been made, however it may take sometime for This One to adjust. You have a responsibility of care to your clan; I cannot in good faith return This One to you unless the others have gone. This One has so requested it, Tom, This One, trusts you both and has requested that you both stay as witnesses."

"Reparation? I do not like the sound of that, what have you done to him?"

"This One knows and has accepted the consequences."

Try as she might the Captain could elicit no further information from the projection, the conversation travelling in constant circles. Eventually concluding that 'This One' referred to Tom, Tom who trusted both herself and the Commander, Tom who had requested that they and only they be present to act as witnesses for some form of reparation as consequence to some act or acts that only Tom and the alien woman understood, Tom who had agreed to something as part of this reparation. The alien woman's syntax was unusual, Chakotay she referred to as man-child, as though it were some form of title. Janeway herself was simply Clan leader, but Tom, Tom she referred to by name or as 'This One' whenever a gender specific term was suitable. The realisation that the whole time the woman had avoided referring to Tom or anyone else as he or she puzzled the Captain.

Deciding that the continued presence of the rescue team was impeding the return of Voyager's missing Chief Pilot the Capitan activated her comm-badge. "Janeway to Voyager, Tuvok the Commander and I will be remaining here, three to beam up, but please maintain a lock on Chakotay and myself.

The three un-required rescue team members disappeared in short order into the blue of a transporter beam, leaving the Captain and Commander alone with the cryptic alien lady.

"Ok, we've done as you have asked, now would you be so good as to return my pilot?"

"Clan Leader, as you have asked so shall it be," the elderly woman said, the flickering projection fading slowly as it spoke until all that remained was a narrow column of bluish white light. Flaring the column collapsed in on itself, flaring once more to expand revealing the golden glowing form of Voyager's missing officer. Something about Tom's form seemed amiss but both senior officers had no time to investigate before the tall blonde's body seemed to shudder and Tom collapsed at their feet.

"Chakotay to Voyager, three to beam directly to sickbay."

o0O0o


	4. Chapter 4

Part the Four - Where in the Captain gets a shock while the Commander cops a feel!

o0O0o

Automatically alerted by Voyager's computer the EMH was prepared, ready and waiting as his usually most reluctant and vocal patient quietly materialised, swiftly taking charge of the glowing form.

"Commander, if you would be so kind as to assist, could you please lift Mr Paris, we need to get him onto a bio-bed quickly."

Reaching under the limp pilot's arms Chakotay bent to get a grip on the unconscious Lieutenant's chest, nearly dropping him in surprise when his hands instead of closing over firm muscle as he had been expecting encountered something considerably softer and warm beneath his palm.

"Commander! Please be more careful, I doubt Mr Paris would appreciate concussion from being dropped on his head on top of his other injuries."

Intent on the doctor treating her injured crewmember the Captain failed to notice her second in command's uneasiness.

"Doctor, we understand that something has been done to Tom, I'd like you to run a full medical check to determine exactly what, if anything apart from the obvious glowing, may have taken place. I'd like a full run down of any injuries including those sustained during the earthquake.

Unwilling to leave yet the Captain and Commander waited while the EMH ran the requested scans, busily cataloguing numerous injuries, which he quickly worked to repair even as the computer analysed the results. Several anomalous readings caused the doctor to become confused; harrumphing at the possible errors he checked his instruments and changing his medical tricorder ran the series of scans again, this time getting a different and equally puzzling series of results.

Standing besides the body stretched out, still and radiant, on the bio-bed something was nagging at Chakotay's conscious. The glowing skin created a cocoon of light partially obscuring the figure within, he was not sure if it was the odd light but the tall pilot's features seemed different somehow, softening, becoming less angular even as he watched. His eyes travelling from the altering face, down to the soft chest, if he hadn't known better he could of swore the younger man had … but no, that was just not possible!

"Oh Spirits Tom, what have you done?"

The softly spoken words caught the attention of Janeway and the Doctor, both turning towards the Commander, the Captain's breath halting in her throat, rendered speechless by the sight before her. Even the usually verbose Doctor was lost for words, urgently running the tricorder once again over the former Mr Paris, scanner beeping softly over the significantly altered form as he worked in silence.

Slowly the internally lit skin seemed to dim, bit by bit losing the glow which had surrounded the young man from the moment of his release upon the planet's surface, revealing at last that which it had hidden from sight.

Once lightly tanned skin was paler, apparent even through a light residual glow were the faint traces of pale blue spots, trailing across the broad forehead, behind Tom's ears, to disappear below the neckline of 'his' uniform. The hard lines and angles of the aristocratic face had softened, brow ridge smoothed flat, lips and cheeks both softer and fuller, hard jaw now rounded, neck smooth too smooth in fact, the last of the formally prominent Adam's apple disappearing even as they watched. Limbs still strong and muscular now sporting a subtle layer of fat, trim waist even smaller than before now flaring to broad, wider hips.

The many little changes in form added up, each a small piece of the puzzle but no one thing as significant as the broad chest, gone were the hard muscular lines, flat pectorals now hidden beneath a well formed bust. Even without the Doctor's medical tests it was startlingly obvious that this handsome young man was now an equally striking young woman!

The Capitan, as usual was the first to recover the use of her voice, harshly she turned it on the EMH.

"Doctor I want you to first confirm that 'this' is in fact 'Mr' Paris," her eyebrows rising as if to emphasise the gender specific term, "then I want you to find out exactly what has been done to 'him' and how to fix it." Eyebrows lifting again her lack of any other expression would have put a Vulcan to shame.

"I'm placing sickbay under a security lockdown, unless there is an emergency only the Commander and myself will have access until you complete your analysis. I want the Away Team recalled and everyone checked to be safe, despite the circumstances I do not want to jump to conclusions only to find out the hard way that Tom is not the only one affected. I'll be posting a security detail outside the doors until further notice."

None too happy to be restricted to Sickbay the EMH put aside his annoyance, his responsibility sub-matrix quickly organising a contingency plan.

"I suggest the crew be treated in their own quarters, any minor injuries can be dealt with by Ensign Wildman, likewise I think it best if Mr Kim report to her for his check up before returning to duty tomorrow."

o0O0o

The AI was puzzled; the correction program was designed to create a straightforward male to female transmutation, at a genetic level to alter the more aggressive male to the tri-sexed species into a member to the female gestator. A similar program existed for the third sex, the Uber and primary genetic contributor, in fact medical science had at the time of the program's inception reached the level where almost any amount of genetic manipulation was possible.

Never before used against on a member of an alien race the program had encountered more than a few problems, Tom's genetics had thrown an unexpected variable, that of a bi-sexed racing; having only male and female members, the lack of the Uber creating difficulties with the conversion.

However the program was nothing if not adaptable, almost ranking as an AI in its' own right, and it worked through the problems one by one. The resulting mishmash of genetics resulted in something that was neither wholly bi, tri or even single sexed, a male/female/Uber alien/human hybrid, Tom's new form was primarily female but also contained an element of uniqueness, completely unlike any that had come before. Despite the apparent success of the conversion the AI had studied the changes and had come the unfortunate conclusion that Tom would be unlikely able to reproduce, the mismatch between bi and tri sexes had rendered the young pilot sterile for period of his transformation.

It was this that puzzled and ultimately intrigued the AI program; after untold hundreds of years alone, sleeping guardian of the Hall of Women for a dead race the AI had awaken called on to fulfil its' duties once more and the thought of returning to sleep possibly never to awaken again weighed heavy on its' mind.

Tom, This One had accepted reparation and been returned to its' clan, but the AI worried after the young pilot, his mind had been scanned as part of the Law before the correction program had been initiated, a failsafe to ensure that the accused spoke the truth, had accepted their actions as erroneous and were not faking a positive response as a means to avoid termination.

The scan showed a mind capable of hiding much, a past deception still regretted and like mental pain showed a capacity to lie but the morality to tell the truth despite the consequences.

The young man was a complex series of contradictions, both loving and friendly, but standoffish and aloof at the same time, a history of hiding behind masks to shield all emotions behind a façade of superiority; often mistake for smugness, the Fly-Boy attitude, another mask which had played such a large role with his interactions with the Voyager crew through the early years of their voyage.

The Playboy, the mask of a lonely man starved for human contact, yearning for the warmth of another's touch beyond the bedroom, but forced to settle for sexual contact when a simple hug would have sufficed. His early reputation as a player unfairly earned, contrived to hold people at bay, preventing them getting too close and allowing them see the wounded man-child within.

Over time This One had slowly relaxed around the other members of the Voyager crew, accepting his place within the Voyager family and bit by bit the masks had dropped, the deliberate baiting of the First Officer had been reduced to more playful banter, more in line with the games he played with Katherine, who he respected above all others, a fellow Star Fleet brat and pseudo-sister, closer in fact than the sisters of his own blood.

Tom had finally found the family of his heart on Voyager and the AI was loathed to leave him now. Although an artificial construct the AI felt the need to perpetuate the species, the biological imperative that drives all life. Knowing This One from his own mind, she felt the stirrings of maternal feelings towards the old Tom and considered the young woman as the daughter she could never have.

A daughter she was worried about, whose own uniqueness could prove to be a problem for Tom's time as a female. The AI was not entirely convinced the alterations the correction program had made to circumvent the problems amalgamating Tom's existing genetic code were reversible.

The punishment was only supposed to last for a finite period, defined by one day for each cycle, month, the subject had lived from the age of puberty to date. Tom's sentence was expected to last somewhere in the region of eight to nine months; the AI was not able to calculate an exact period as its' native calendar was incompatible with the Star date system used by Tom's people.

Reaching a decision the AI sent a time-delayed message to her new daughter on Voyager before disabling the security protocols protecting the Hall of Women, setting in place the necessary sequence of events to forever collapse the structure and bury it beneath the planet's surface. The AI's last act for a dead race before transferring its' Guardianship to one very much alive; AI transferred itself into Voyager's databanks and awaited that which was to come with anticipation.

o0O0o


	5. Chapter 5

Part the Five – Where in the Captain annoys the EMH, Chakotay takes a walk, the engineering staff learn to tread softly and Harry is just Harry.

o0O0o

The next two days passed in a flurry of activity and confusion, time seeming to pass either too quickly or too slowly, depending on whom you asked.

Caught within the grasp of time, Voyagers' crew were carried along by the tide, no matter their own personal scale they rode out the waves, the ripple effect spreading its' concentric rings ensuring that the individual players followed the path set in motion, the proper order of things to come. At its' centre, dead calm surrounded the principle figure, body in stasis, mind not timeless but outside of time itself we find the golden light that is Thomas Eugene Paris.

As Tom 'slept' his body rested regenerated at a cellular level, restoring energy levels depleted by the massive changes enforced on his form within such a short period of time. His mind meanwhile was busy processing the sheer volume of information downloaded directly into his brain by the AI as part of the educational portion of the punishment programme.

Experienced as an intensive dream Tom's subconscious worked its' way through a syllabus originally designed to help integrate the newly transgendered back into active society. The curriculum in a drastically amended form had been tailor-made to fit his unique circumstances; completely abandoning a number of lessons, re-writing others including the practical aspects such as reproduction and theorizing on the various connotations of the family unit.

The dream lessons allowed Tom to experience life in his new form, from birth growing up through childhood, entering puberty, adolescence and adulthood; so that when he awakened, he would be comfortable in his new body, allowing him to function with no noticeable difference than if he'd remained unchanged.

The sociological aspect of the training incorporated to run seamlessly alongside Tom's rebirth. The finished product ultimately incorporating the physical and mental aspects, resulting in the genuine metamorphosis of the young pilot to true hybrid female rather than human male trapped in a alien body, male female or otherwise.

At the end of the course the built in tutor, a minor element of the AI programme, evaluated Tom's progress and despite the difficulties of fitting the course to provide best value to Tom the AI rated his progress. Please with the pupil's performance the tutor terminated its' activities, its' purpose completed it soon faded away and within time wiped clean from Tom's mind. Tom sighed in the dark, pushing the constricting covers away from his chest without waking before falling into deeper, non REM sleep, remaining oblivious to the subconscious reconditioning.

In his dreamless state, Tom was surrounded by a warm orange glow. The light cocooning him was unbelievably bright; like trying to stare into the fusion at the heart of the sun. However, despite its' intensity or maybe just in spite of it he found the light did not hurt his eyes, squinting only in reflex, not that there was anything to see at the moment.

He felt more than saw that wherever he was, was pretty much a featureless plain. The temperature neither hot nor cold was simply comfortable. Experimentally Tom shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the resulting soft noise was strangely muffled, liking it to the 'dead' sound often associated with soundproofing. Comforted by the total calm Tom settled down to rest.

o0O0o

The EMH ran a battery of test, including a few he made up on the spot, barely conscious of the passage of time if not for the frequent, and from his point of view annoying, status reports seemingly required by the Captain right in the middle of whatever test he was running.

For the Captain, stuck in 'Command mode' unable to allow herself to think about Tom, only of Lieutenant Paris, seemed more a case of hurry up and wait. Her gut instinct was that her Chief helmsman truly was now the woman currently lying comatose in Sickbay but the chain of command was forcing her to first confirm that they hadn't taken on board an impostor, to extinguish the unpalatable before facing the improbable.

Chakotay dealt with the situation in his own steady manner outwardly calm he supported his Captain within the chain of command although personally convinced of the truth as seen through his own eyes; that the transformation witnessed within the sterile walls of Sickbay was indisputable fact. A fact the internally bothered the man more so than the First Officer, the male persona than the rank he carried. No matter how he looked at it, he had watched as the handsome, brash, intelligent, and Spirits' knows frequently annoying pilot had changed sex, and Oh what a woman he had become!

The realisation that he now found the new 'Tom' attractive if, when he gave himself leave to think about it, was deeply disturbing and so he retreated into his beliefs, turning to his Spirit Guide for strength. Locked away in his quarters Chakotay took a walk within his own mind where time passing outside had little importance and negligible effect on the outcome.

For B'Elanna, aware that Tom was apparently back on board, time bragged, desperate to know what was happening her temper steadily built at the lack of information. The need to see Tom, confirm that he was alright before tearing him off a strip for scaring her always seemed uppermost in her mind.

The need to protect their fledgling relationship; only weeks old and as yet unconsummated much to B'Elanna's surprise at Tom's insistence, the source of her pain. Engineering suffered alongside the Klingon woman, suffered through her foul mood, the plasma injectors subjected to the most thorough servicing on record. The Warp drive may have benefited but the engineering staff did not.

Harry worried, incessantly, worried for his friend, feeling guilt over a situation he had, had little or no actual control over. For Harry time could not pass quickly enough. The longer Tom remained locked away with the Doctor the more the young Ensign worried and the more he worried the slower time seemed to move, each minute seemed like hours.

To the young man the longer without word on his friend's condition the longer his mind had to concoct increasingly unpleasant scenarios, his own imagination providing worse imaging than the whole Borg Collective and Tom's Warp 10 incident rolled together and then some!

o0O0o


	6. Chapter 6

Part the Six – Where in Tom is lost for words and B'Elanna and Harry's worlds are about to be turned upside down!

o0O0o

Propped up on his elbows Tom pushed back lifting his torso further from the bio-bed, a look of intense concentration on his face. Not since he was a small child had sitting up unaided required such an effort in coordination, even rolling drunk Tom mused he had more control over his limbs, which at present had the strength of wet spaghetti noodles.

With a small grunt of effort, he finally reached a more or less vertical position. His sickbay tunic fell uncomfortably tight across his new bust line, held away from his ribs and stomach by the oddly heavy mass of new flesh, to pool against the unnaturally flat groin. Tom could hear the EMH's voice droning on but caught up analyzing the strange sensations from his new body he shut out the world beyond his own skin.

Uncomfortable within that skin his body fit like new clothes, an alien version of a favourite suit the cut and cloth both familiar but at one and the same time just a little bit off. The dream programme had taught Tom about his new body but it would still take a little while once awake to actually process the information his synapses were providing and correctly catalogue them.

In reaction, Tom unconsciously telegraphed his emotional response, pulling his long legs up, wrapping smooth skinned arms around his bent knees, resting one sculpted cheekbone against the curve of his right elbow. Body language reflecting his insecurity in the tight self-hug even as his breasts squashed uncomfortably against the newly fleshed out plains of his rounded thighs.

With his face shadowed under a mass of soft blond curls, head cushioned against his bicep, breasts hidden behind the long limbs the betraying evidence of his transformation where temporally masked from sight and the casual observer may have been forgiven for failing to realise that something if anything was out of place with the picture.

If that was it were not for the fact that the curled up figure of the young woman that was now Tom Paris, projecting an unhappy vision; knowing what had happened to him and the reasons behind it and then accepting the results were completely different and occasionally conflicting thought processes. Tom sat in silence, quietly processing. Meanwhile in the Doctor's office the EMH finished his report to the Captain and Commander Chakotay.

"I've run every test imaginable and some not so and I can only come to that conclusion that in someway I have yet to determine, caused by a process I can not even begin to theorise about."

"Doctor, please cut to the chase," the Captain cut in, used to the EMH's tendency to speak at length if you did not stop him in time.

"I can find no evidence of cloning, cosmetic enhancements, I even ruled out any possibility of Borg involvement. She, for want of a better term, is approximately sixty-four percent human and physically female in every sense and form. Captain that is Tom Paris! "

The silence that followed the EMH's announcement was broke only by the soft sounds of movement from the main medical bay, drawing the attention of the Doctor away from the stunned Command staff and back of his patient.

Silently Tom watched the Doctor approach, aware that the EMH had unusually engaged oft-unseen protocols exhibiting an empathic bedside manner he rarely bothered to employ with the accident prone Tom.

"Awake again Mr Paris."

A soft snort comprised Tom's only rely, seemingly to dispute 'Mr' while glancing out through his shaggy fringe at the Doctor, gaze sliding over the forms of his commanding officers; blue eyes flicking swiftly from the Captain to Commander, lighting briefly to the facing taking in the carefully blank expressions before flicking back to the Doctor again.

"And how are we feeling now?"

Tom raised one hunched shoulder in a casual shrug followed by a pregnant pause.

"Tom?" The query evident in Chakotay's tone of voice was enough to break the frozen tableau, triggering a flurry of movement from the blond Lieutenant.

Dropping his knees flat to the bed Tom swung long shapely legs down to his left, sitting straight his head back and eyes solidly fixed on the Captain's face, masks visibly sliding into place, poised he seemed to be waiting for something.

"I guess you really managed to get yourself into trouble this time Tom!" Janeway's face softened as she spoke, a tiny curl lifting the corners of her mouth. Now that the Captain had accepted the fact that the 'woman' before her was her chief pilot, the humour of the situation was striking the woman beneath the role.

Tom's response was another brief shrug and a heated blush spreading from the neck of his tunic to the tips of his ears, heat turning the skin a vivid pink in its' wake.

At the Captain and Commander's puzzled response to normally verbose Lieutenant's silent communications Tom turned to the Doctor, one eyebrow lifted in an obvious question, to which the EMH handed the young 'woman' a PADD which he had held ready for just such a need.

Immediately Tom typed a brief message, which he showed to the Doctor, "You haven't told them yet?"

The Doctor needlessly cleared his throat with a rough harrumph, managing to look mildly embarrassed and annoyed at the same time. "I was just getting to that 'Mr' Paris", the EMH stressing the title again, a little game the two had developed over the last few days, mostly because it seemed to keep his patient amused and his mind off brooding.

Tom unintentionally held the PADD at such an angle as to be clearly legible to the Captain as well as the Doctor. "Told us what Tom, Doctor?" She queried, although it was becoming in part fairly obvious as to what the silent young 'woman' meant.

Turning his attention back to the Captain, the Doctor explained the cryptic communication. "One of the minor injuries Tom experienced was damage to his larynx, specifically his vocal cords, although I have repaired the damage as a matter of course he seems unable to talk at present. The problem seems to be psychological rather than physical, related to the circumstances under which the original injury was obtained. In the meantime, the PADD is an acceptable substitute."

o0O0o

Growling from deep within her chest B'Elanna swung her first, putting her entire body-weight behind the punch; having abandoned the slick but unsatisfied feeling of sinking the razor edge of her batletth into the holographic flesh of her opponents in favour of grasping and punching with her bare hands.

A sickening crunch of splintering bone; a pleasant melody in counterpoint to the pounding of the blood in her veins, as the heavy body hung limp from her other hand, released it fell with a dull thud to the floor, yet another photonic enemy literally biting the proverbial dust.

Stepping over the still form B'Elanna stalked off around the holodeck in search of further prey, the volatile engineer having chosen, after days terrorising her own staff with her violent mood swings, to work out her anger and frustration in the relatively privacy of holodeck two in a specially designed 'callisthenics' program.

Noticing that her fellow engineers were beginning to avoid their Chief during the course of both Alpha and Beta shift; not that she had been scheduled for a double shift but there was only so long she could stand pacing the four walls of her own quarters, had been the final incentive she needed to flee to the holodeck before triggering a mutiny within the department.

The entire situation was making her very uncomfortable, first the worry over the disappearance of a fellow officer and at the same time as Tom, her partner. Relief at his return swiftly changed to frustration at the quarantine imposed on sickbay by the Captain. Anger at the communications lockdown now that he had been released back to his own quarters, although officially the computer still maintained that his current location was sickbay B'Elanna through Harry knew that this was not the case and that Tom had left there several hours previously.

Harry had come to her after the end of Alpha shift, telling her of an inconsistency within the transporter logs. The computer log recorded a site-to-site transport from sickbay to Tom's quarters, records that later showed no such activity. So skilfully had the data been eradicated that if Harry had not been monitoring the internal sensors as a matter of routine maintenance at the exact moment of transport he would never have been aware of the event.

There were few people aboard Voyager with the skill or security clearance to exact such an alteration. Realising that it had to have been one of the senior staff Harry, after much painful consideration, had brought the information to B'Elanna's attention. His own suspicions and the odd state of affairs surrounding Tom, since his return, pushing Harry to take the significant step to circumvent usual chain of command. One he would never have taken for anyone else, but Tom was his best friend and had yet again put his own life on the line to save someone else.

Harry had long since stopped counting the number of times he personally owed Tom for some such selfless action; however the only person he had, to Harry's knowledge called on about the debt, was Commander Chakotay, the life debt incurred on the Occampan Home World, a serious matter between the two men. Tom rarely spoke of it, seemly almost embarrassed by the subject.

o0O0o


	7. Chapter 7

Part the Seven – Where in Tom wears a path in the carpet, B'Elanna takes an unscheduled nap and the author has forgotten what she was going to do to Harry!

o0O0o

Waking in his darkened quarters Harry Kim surfaced from eight hours of healing sleep. Slowly rubbing the collected sleep from the corner of his eyes he sat up, privately pleased that his head felt normal, no dizziness or blurred vision greeted his movements. Yawning the young man stretched both arms high above his head, joints popping satisfactorily as he reached the apex.

Still half asleep, he shuffled from the bathroom into the main living area, calling for the computer to raise the lights to forty percent as he did so. With one hand raised scratching at the nap of his neck Harry blinked in the soft illumination. Against the far wall, his computer console beeped, calling his attention to a waiting message.

As he hit the playback request, his stomach quietly rumbled, reminding him that he had not eaten anything since breakfast. The screen before him altered to display the worried features of B'Elanna Torres, "Harry, I need to speak to you, can you contact me as soon as is convenient."

The chirp of the computer chimes cut across the harsh sounds of combat echoing through the holodeck from B'Elanna's workout.

"Chakotay to B'Elanna Torres."

"What?" the half Klingon woman practically snarled in reply.

There was a slight delay while Chakotay adjusted to the harsh tones of the angry engineer. "I'm sorry for interrupting B'Elanna, is this a bad time?"

Calling to the computer, B'Elanna paused the holo-programme. Leaning forward she braced her hands against her knees deeply drawing air into her lungs as the effects of the rough workout made their presence known, fatigue muscles burning throughout her aching limbs. "Go ahead Commander."

Through a long association, Chakotay knew that addressing him by rank was not a good sign. "Could you come to my office? There is something we need to discuss."

Despite her anger, B'Elanna read mixed signals in her friend's voice, and it was as her friend that he spoke, not as Voyager's First Officer. Although phrased as a question the request to meet in Chakotay's office was more of a command, the setting indicated an official request rather than a more casual, friendly overture.

"Acknowledged, on my way."

Elsewhere Harry Kim, in response to a similar communiqué was making his way to the Captain's readyroom. Both the Captain and her First Officer acting on behalf of the voiceless Tom, had agreed to advise his lover and best friend of the usual situation that his own current lack of vocal ability prevented him doing so in person.

Harry, Tom knew would have the patience to read a message, had Tom decided to prepare a PADD, but this had seemed too impersonal and he knew that was no way B'Elanna would appreciate that approach. News of this magnitude needed the interpersonal skills of Voyager's ranking officers.

Meanwhile Tom waited, trying to relax in his quarters, having chosen to retire to more comfortable surrounds rather than remain in sickbay where he stood a high probability of being seen by the crew before he was ready. The chance of being revealed before then, a risk he was not willing to take.

The Doctor for one had been happy to release the blond, happy to have his domain back fully under his control and Tom Paris free the moment the Captain had remove the security lockdown. Despite being unable to talk, Tom had easily communicated his displeasure at once again being trapped within the confines of sickbay and had soon found new and interesting ways to annoy the EMH.

It was much easier for the Doctor to concentrate on the puzzle of the pilot's transformation without the person in question constantly hanging over his shoulder, both physically and metaphorically. At one point, before the Lieutenant's departure, he was sorely tempted to give into the urge to disable the PADD which comprised the officer's only means to 'verbalise' but the mental image of Tom, arms and hands waving trying to communicate like some bizarre game of charades was just too horrifying to risk and so the PADD stayed and the Doctor did is level best to ignore the source of his irritation, however his acerbic tongue and dry whit worked overtime to compensate.

Restless Tom had long since given up trying to rest quietly and resorted to pacing his quarters, striding across the width of his living area from the door to the window and back again, over and over, his feet following the same path time and again. Even the stars hanging in the tapestry of space, glinting like frozen diamond chips on darkest velvet unable to divert his attention while he waited.

Eventually his pacing was interrupted by nervously anticipated sound of the door chime, without thought he opened his mouth to call out for his visitor to enter. Tongue and lips formed the words without effort but no voice broke the silence of the room. Brow creasing in frustration as the effort failed Tom turned on his heel, to face the entrance he had to resort to manually releasing the door.

o0O0o

Minutes before ringing the chine to Tom's quarters, B'Elanna found herself standing alone in the corridor outside. Having informed Chakotay she was able to face Tom without the need for backup, now that she was actually there, facing Kahless knew what inside she found that the urgency to see Tom; to reconnect with her mate, swiftly draining away, replaced her earlier feelings of worry and anger with uncertainty; the feeling creeping unpleasantly up her spine to lurk at the base of her skull, its' cold fingers brushing the back of her neck.

Despite his best efforts, Chakotay had done more to increase the half-Klingon woman's tension than eliminate it. Informing his fellow Marquis colleague that some unexpected and potentially permanent change had befallen her man, he had tried to carefully explain to the fiery engineer that mentally Tom was the same man but physically no man at all, it had taken considerable effort to keep his attention on B'Elanna and not the memory of soft flesh beneath his palms. His skin of his hands seemed to itch with the memory, the sensation burned eternally into his mind.

B'Elanna knew she had feelings towards Tom, considered him her mate, the relationship though only fairly recent had progressed past base attraction and into more emotional realms, and what were the first stirrings of an emotions she hesitated to label romantic love.

Could she come to love another woman? B'Elanna was not sure, she had not really stopped to consider that her Tom was not her Tom any more and that this worried her greatly, could their fledgling feelings survive what was to come?

What she also failed to stop and consider was that in likelihood, she was experiencing a form of shock, the news had not really had a chance to sink in yet, and so she stood, in the corridor, facing the door to her mate's quarters, alone with her thoughts.

Almost of its' own accord her right hand slowly rose, her fingers finally brushing against the sensor plate, activating the computer and sounding the door chime to announce her presence.

Realising, after the fact, what she had done the engineer's fingers jerked back as if burnt by the sensor, she stared at her own hand, looking at the limb as if betrayed by her own body. However, as the seconds tick away disbelief turned to worry as the chime went unanswered.

Chakotay had made sure to let her know that Tom was at home, welcomed her company, expecting it, had specifically asked her visit him once the Commander had explained the situation he now found himself in. So why was she standing there facing the still firmly closed door?

Just as her fingers reached forward towards the sensor, intending to ring the chime again the door slid open, leaving her face to chest with the man in question, or rather that should have been face to breast, umm…. Make that breasts, there were two breasts just inches from her face.

Tom barely had time to brace himself on still shaky legs before he caught the fainting form of his Klingon mate as her brain chose to take the quickest way out, it was either shut down temporarily or break something, someone, uncharacteristically it chose to shut down over a display destruction.

Defiantly not the reaction Tom had been expecting!

o0O0o


	8. Chapter 8

Part the Eight – Where B'Elanna's illusions break, Tom crumbles, and Chakotay quits trying to fool himself!

o0O0o

Slumping with the exhaustion that seemed to dog him since he had awakened in sickbay, Tom folded his long legs and sank loosely to the floor, beside him B'Elanna's unconscious form lay on the sofa where after a bit of a struggle Tom had managed to place her.

Normally carrying her the short distance from the door would have been a simple task but the combination of rubbery limbs and certain areas of his anatomy conspired, resulted in a few mentally yelled curses and a couple of bruises for both participants.

Bruises which Tom fully expected to add to his growing collection. Although the AI had explained that he shouldn't have any problems acclimatizing to his altered form the change itself had left him drained and it was fatigue more than adjustment problems which left his limbs clumsy and Tom had lost count of the number of times he had bumped his shins and elbows on various fixtures and fittings.

His chest was another matter entirely; Tom just could not get used to the idea, frequently forgetting he now needed slightly more room to get around objects. Turning through the door to the bathroom was a trying experience, his only consolation that his breasts were made up of soft flesh and seemed to absorb the majority of the impact whenever he miscalculated and collided with the doorframe, otherwise he imagined he would soon look like the victim of an abusive relationship.

The Doctor, quickly becoming fed up of spending precious research time in patching up Tom and putting up with the pilot's sour expressions, authorised the loan of a dermal regenerator so that the young man could treat his injuries without having to frequent sickbay and reduce the risk of being spotted by the crew during a visit. However, this was on the strict provision that Tom would yield to the Doctor over treatment of anything more serious than the odd knock, trusting that Tom would use his own medical training responsibly, for he was not above taking a fall in his present state.

It was a testament to the young man's level of maturity and growth that he not only agreed with the Doctor but also fully intended to keep his word to the EMH. Which only in a small part played on the fact that the less time he saw of the insides of sickbay the better, and more that Tom despite his frequent complaints actually regarded the holographic man as a friend.

Sitting watching, waiting for his girlfriend to regain consciousness was not exactly a riveting experience but preferable to watching paint dry, if not marginally more painful for despite the soft carpet, the floor was just as hard and unyielding, not the most comfortable place to sit. Tom's buttocks soon began to feel exactly just how hard, he should have, he decided, dragged a cushion off the closest chair.

Snorting at himself, Tom found the idea of B'Elanna's reaction had he just dropped her where she fell so he could take the time to prepare a comfortable place to park his butt. It would have been more amusing had B'Elanna been awake to share the joke with, she would have undoubtedly reminded him that he was lucky to have made it to where they did without crashing either one into the floor, cushions or no and his butt would just have to suffer along with the rest of him.

His butt however chose a different option and was steadily going numb. Tom silently debated the chances of managing at the moment the complicated process of actually hauling himself up and across to and empty chair; provided of course that his legs decided to cooperate and support his weight. Deciding that there was a high probability that stand more chance of successfully breathing in a vacuum he took the easier option and stayed exactly where he was, hard floor and all.

Thereby resigning himself to a fate that involved a nasty case of pins and needles in the not too distant future, Tom dropped his head onto the sofa cushions besides B'Elanna's hip. Banging his forehead on the seat a couple of times trying to knock some sense into his own skull, it was that or pound it into the floor in frustration. Given that the sofa was softer, he chose the least painful option, besides bruises on his face would be harder to explain to the Doctor and he was already suffering enough with a numb behind without adding a headache to the mix.

With each gentle thud of his head B'Elanna's face twitched, her eyes rolling behind their lids, unobserved by Tom. Then again, it would have been somewhat difficult for him to see from that angle without having developed eyes in the back of his head along with the other bodily changes, and for that small mercy, he would have been eternally grateful had he actually stopped to think about it. However, he was currently otherwise occupied and so the moment passed unnoticed.

A callused hand reached out and gripped the back of Tom's head, halting the repetitive movement by forcing his face into the cushions, accompanied by the growling voice of an un-amused Klingon woman. "Tom, stop that".

"'Lanna?" The rich contralto voice, which responded despite subtle differences, was unmistakably Tom's, feminized with an echo of rich almost sultry tones, but all the same it was still Tom.

Both bodies jerked; B'Elanna in shock, realising right at that moment the she was lying on Tom's couch with Tom's soft hair beneath the palm of one hand, with no recollection of how she had ended up there. And Tom; Tom in surprise at hearing himself speak aloud, finally after nearly three days of silence, not counting the sarcastic little voice which voiced the thoughts in his mind, the realisation twisting up the corners of his mouth in an unconsciously sexy smirk.

Seeing the familiar expression on her mate's face B'Elanna was taken aback by the woman before her, despite her own heterosexuality she recognised the unmistakable sensuality of Tom's new form. However, and unfortunately for the pair, as a woman Tom's appearance failed to strike that certain something within her, the spark of attraction that had always burned bright now lay dormant, fizzling out and dying with barely a whisper.

B'Elanna's sad, quiet, "Oh Tom", strike out the relationship's death peal.

One look into her eyes was all it took to confirm Tom's fears, the dark depths warmed by love, sadness, pain, friendship and a host of emotions betwixt and between, everything but the heated desire that until moments ago had burned with all the passion only a Klingon could muster. Desire that used to echo that which now haunted his own blue eyes.

Tom immediately felt the pain of its' loss, as a dull ache deep within his chest, his heart dragging, stopping to skip just a single beat before resuming its' normal rhythm. In response B'Elanna felt her arms lift, wrapping around the pathetic form of Voyager's chief pilot, of their own accord, as silent tears slid down his cheeks and quiet shudders wracked his form. B'Elanna held Tom within her warm embrace offering comfort as he cried out, grieving for stolen futures and the days just past.

Crying, in the unobtrusive manner he had cultivated as a child, his huddled form reminiscent of the child he had once been, memory echoes of crying alone in his room. However, unlike those bitter memories, this time there was a difference, this time strong arms surrounded him, hands cradled his head against a warm shoulder.

This time some cared!

This time he did not cry alone!

o0O0o

Sitting behind his desk, Chakotay sat, a warm cup of tea cradled between his hands, the office lights dimmed to 40 to create a relaxing atmosphere. The usually report cluttered desk currently void of all but the Commander's arms, Chakotay having chosen to work off a bout of insomnia catching up on the numerous PADDs that routinely fell into his lap under the guise of the First Officer's duties.

His sudden nocturnal dedication to duty above and beyond the norm had carried him halfway through Gamma shift and into the early hours of the morning. It was only after finding himself trying to find things to do, creating make-do jobs in an effort to keep busy long after the ever-present backlog of reports had been cleared that he snapped back to an awareness of his surroundings.

In the calm of his office, Chakotay finally allowed his mind to focus on the nagging cause of his insomnia, Tom Paris. The pilot had oft been the bane of the First Officer's existence through-out the early years of Voyager's journey, seemly attempting to provoke the Commander on the slightest provocation after what had been a period of improved behaviour; although part of Janeway's plan to expose the traitor Jonas, Tom's actions had set back their professional relationship and ruined budding acceptance and friendship between the two officers.

Correction, ruined it from Chakotay's point of view, Tom would have been willing to pick up where they had left off before the Captain had drawn him in to flush out the viper within their midst. Logically he understood that Tom had been the Captain's best chance, his past and reputation working for him in this instance, but Chakotay's own pride perceived slight at being forced to play the straight man to Tom's display of acting skills.

Had he thought about with any real sense of duty towards the Lieutenant, who was despite it all a member of the crew, he would have seen something amiss with the whole scenario; Tom, from the moment he granted the chance to fly again had exhibited a fierce loyalty towards the Captain. The disenchanted young man Tom had portrayed did not quite fit with the person he had been becoming, struggling to break free.

Looking back it became clear just how talented Tom's acting abilities were, and shockingly clear just how he had developed them; the many and multi-layered masks the young man wore everyday of his adult life.

After that incident the Commander had, had to work hard to overcome the resurrected barriers, expending considerable effort at first just to remain civil in the pilot's company, however the method and delivery of Tom's apology on 'A briefing with Neelix' really hadn't helped. The smug attitude just another of Tom's masks, slipped on without thought, emotions tidied away beneath the flyboy's shield of indifference once more.

The whole matter still made Chakotay uneasy, but for different reasons now than those originally invoked. Lest he who is without sin.

And now this, Chakotay wondered exactly what masks the pilot would hide behind this time. Abandoning the now cold tea Chakotay gave up trying to convince himself that the heat on his palms was from the discarded mug and not the memory of his hands cupping flesh!

o0O0o


End file.
